There's a sensation I feel when listening to some ambient music, something I assume many people feel, of being lulled, of being calmed, of being weightless. That's what this film, with its long, quiet spaces; wide open landscapes; and intricate details does. It suffuses you with peace, even in its most awkward moments, even with the threat of violence in the air, even amidst heartbreak or decay. It reminded me so strongly of the sensation I felt reading Casey Plett's "Not Bleak." In the face of the bitter cold (you can feel it just by watching--something about all those coats), it seems easy to slip into feeling removed from this film, but the mixture of performance (no weak performance graces…

Kelly Reichardt's Certain Women aches with the wind of a thousand lives lost to the blistering cold. Its cast may be individualistic, but their mingling relationships are already doomed, stamped to the far outstretches of fate. The winding landscapes of small-town Montana feel disconnected from America's progress into modernity, evident by scenes constructed out of alienating office cubicles, restaurants, and school parking lots. These people are so lonely, so uncertain in spite of their chosen particularity that the film's expansion of time - trains roaming as transport, horses strolling across a winter night - captures impeccable nuance in their unspoken desires and frustrations. They're surrounded by advances in culture and technology, but their tired eyes and haunted gestures seem…

Have now spent several days trying to perceive a coherent whole in these three barely-connected stories, and am still failing. The middle one in particular befuddles me—it felt bizarrely inconsequential while I was watching it, and theses that I've since read online and/or heard from friends, while solid enough, only serve to further isolate it from the other two in my mind. Not wholly sold on the initial tale, either, which is thoroughly absorbing in the moment but kinda left me shrugging post-epilogue. Airlift the final chapter out of Certain Women and make it a stand-alone short, however, and it would likely be my favorite film of the year. Don't want to say much about it, since its power…

I don't think Kelly Reichardt will ever be my favorite director, but she's someone that I just have to keep watching her films. The way she knows how to use patience and keeps the frame captivating is something I may never know how to pin down. It's just a car ride and yet it feels like so much more. Also what an incredible use of its cast. We've seen Laura Dern and Michelle Williams nail it many times but I want to keep seeing her work with Kristen Stewart because she brought out something really special out of her.

Although many of the emotions were familiar to me, I felt most akin to the Lonely Ranch Hand as I, too, embarrassingly, would drive 4 hours to see that special someone with whom I felt a connection, shared a spark of chemistry, engaged in moments of conversational closeness (albeit one-sided). I know that feeling well. It opens up something inside of you and leaves you looking forward to your next encounter with them, has you trying to look your best for them, makes you want to create something special for them, and the thought of not seeing them again...it drives you to do embarrassing things like show up when and where you are not wanted.

Yes, the Lonely Ranch Hand was by far my favourite character. Funny since everything I loved about her ended up being a reflection of what I loathe in myself.